Scream
by ExquisitelyInked
Summary: Sometimes, all Draco felt like doing was to scream. Scream his heart out, scream in dismay that Harry Potter would never be his.


Title: Scream

By: AtobeLover

Summary: Sometimes, all Draco felt like doing was to scream. Scream his heart out, scream in dismay that Harry Potter would never be his.

Rated: T

Disclaimer: I'm on fanfiction dot net. (Can't that pass as a disclaimer?) So, I don't own Harry Potter, and do not seek to gain anything but a sense of satisfaction as I finally managed to write something decent enough concerning Harry and Draco. And maybe a few reviews. I know JK Rowling owns Harry Potter.

**Note: This is their "eighth" year. Not any of the others, seeing how well my previous fic turned out. Review and give love, please... I don't have cookies but I do have a very grateful smile!**

**Warning: Fluff, gooey-ness. Don't hate me.**

/ \\\ / \\\ / \\\

More often than not, Draco curled up in his dormitory and tried not to dream about fiery green eyes that captured everything in their gaze, including him; the soft, gentle, unconscious smile that adorned his face every morning as he came in with his friends that tore at his heart because it was always directed away from the Slytherin table.

Draco shouldn't have let him save his life. Not only had he entered into a life debt with him, but now he was subjected to worse torture than death, seeing him stroll around the halls of the castle calmly, with his two best friends, or with that red-headed _bitch_ who somehow was his girlfriend, talking to him, holding hands with him, consoling him in one of his weaker moments.

He hated seeing that grin, the boyish everything's-going-to-be-fine smirk that appeared nine out of ten times on his beautiful face. Once in a while, Draco would be caught staring _at_ him _by_ him, their green-and-grey gazes meeting, and Draco's world going blissfully silent around him.

And then a few minutes after holding that gaze, Draco would remember to breathe.

Draco was attracted to beauty. Just like everyone else. He saw beauty in everything from the ripples on the calm surface of the Black Lake to the high pile of toffee apples on the table. However the beauty of the man who probably hated him took his breath away. The curve of his lips, the shape of his eyes, and the silken look of his perpetually-messy hair ... Draco needed him. Wanted him. _Loved_ him.

Sometimes, all Draco felt like doing was to scream. Scream his heart out, scream in dismay that Harry Potter would never be his.

/ \\\ / \\\ / \\\

If you were to describe Harry Potter in general in one word, it would be impossible to do so. He was many things rolled into one. Brave, charming, good-looking, loyal, selfless ... but right now all he could be called was confused. He didn't give a flying fish about what went on around him about him, not now when what he'd been striving for since three years was over. Voldemort was gone, and now Harry could move on. Live normally. As normally as you could live without your face on the front page of the Daily Prophet every day and students gawking at you every step you took down the hallways.

He sank into thought more often nowadays, not even responding to the gentle calls of his best friends, let alone his girlfriend. His train of thought usually led him to someone whom Harry would loathe in other circumstances.

He didn't know why he liked looking at Draco Malfoy so much. There was just something about him that charmed Harry, attracted him to Draco, and he didn't know what. It could very well be the quiet air of humbled arrogance he had around him, or the silent, intense looks he sometimes gave Harry. They had completely stopped trading insults, going as far as to avoid each other during the walks in the hallways, Harry because he didn't want to see the defeated look in Draco's stunning icy silver eyes anymore, Draco because he didn't want to be reminded of his unrequited crush on Harry fucking Potter.

And Harry should honestly be paying more attention to his girlfriend. Not his childhood enemy.

'Hey, Harry,' a voice broke him out of thought, and Harry looked up to see someone smiling at him warmly. He smiled back, although his grin wasn't as open and bright as hers. 'Hi, Ginny,' he replied. 'I hope Ron and Hermione didn't send you to ask what was wrong with me.'

'No, they didn't, although they're worried you're going into depression because of something they don't know anything about,' Ginny laughed, settling on the arm of the chair Harry was sitting in. 'I came because I wanted to see my boyfriend.' She reached for Harry's hand, and Harry let her hold it comfortingly out of guilt; immense guilt that she loved him with all she had, but he couldn't spare her one ounce of the type of love she was looking for in him.

Because he was giving all of it to Draco Malfoy.

/ \\\ / \\\ / \\\

Draco didn't know what to do. Sitting in McGonagall's office beside Harry fucking Potter, the Boy-Who-Draco-Malfoy-Was-In-Love-With, getting to know what he would be doing for the next four hours.

It wasn't really his fault. The redhead Weasley had passed a snide comment about sons of Death Eaters not welcome at Hogwarts, and he'd snapped. Potter had intervened, and McGonagall had swooped down upon the both of them.

Weasley had unfortunately escaped because McGonagall had seen only Potter and Malfoy arguing their asses off. He had no doubt that Granger and Weasley would be waiting for their best friend after the detention hours.

'You will have to mark every one of these essays on Turning a Matchstick into a Needle for the first-year students. I trust your brains retained some of the information you got in _your _first year?'

Without waiting for a reply she turned and left, leaving Draco and Harry to face four piles of tightly-rolled parchment and two quills.

'Ah, what the fuck,' Draco groaned. 'You do it all, Potter, I'll watch.'

'Funny, I was going to suggest the same thing to you.'

'Funny, I said it first,' Draco snapped. 'Now get on with it!'

Harry leant back; beautiful green eyes gazing at Draco's face, making him go red around the cheeks. 'I won't start until you do. It's because of you I even got into a fight.'

'Blame your blood traitor friend, why don't you? I hadn't provoked him at all; he rose in all his dirt-poor glory and bitched about me.'

Harry smiled, faintly amused. 'Bitched about you? Really, Draco?'

Draco was startled. 'So now we're on first-name bases?'

'Yeah, I guess. I mean, you probably hate me, still, but I guess you're just neutral to me. I guess it's only right to call you by your first name, now that I no longer hate you,' Harry said shyly and quietly, eyeing the floor, his hands, his wand.

Draco was far from "probably hating" Harry. He smirked at Harry's complete ignorance. 'You're a very bad perceiver,' he began, and then hurriedly changed the subject before Harry could start working that out. 'You better start grading.'

'I just told you I wouldn't start until you did.'

'Well, you can sit around doing nothing, because that's what I'm going to do, anyway.'

A luxurious fifteen minutes passed. Harry was growing restless and nervous. He didn't want to face McGonagall's fury at the end of the four hours allotted to them. 'Come on!' He wheedled Draco. 'She'll know it was only me who did it all.'

'Well, I'll teach you to copy my handwriting, then. Until that time, why don't you start grading your half?' Draco was leaning back in his chair, smirking at the justice of detention.

Harry closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. Being in love with him and being pissed off by him were two completely different things. He struck a deal with Draco. 'Okay, look. I'll do all of this crap, and in return you have to answer one question of mine.'

'Done,' Draco drawled.

'Every day, in the Great Hall, why do you stare at me so intensely that it feels to me like ... you want to grab hold of me and stake your claim on me; like you want to kiss me so deeply my lips turn red; like you love me?'

Draco was stunned. After a few minutes, he choked out, 'Pass.'

'No way. I'll not do any of the detention work, mind you.'

'No comment.'

'Answer the fucking question, Draco Malfoy,' Harry snarled, getting out of his seat and approaching Draco menacingly. Draco leaned back as Harry leant down and forward, resting his hands on Draco's chair's arms. 'I'm not going to answer you, Potter,' Draco whispered, feeling his breath fan out and brush against Potter's lips.

'You had better, because you have the sword hanging over your head by a thread, and I hold the scissors,' Harry said smugly.

'Scissors?'

'Muggle stuff. You wouldn't know. Don't try to change the subject.'

'Um...'

'Is nothing but a feeble attempt to not answer the question.'

Draco sighed, and took the plunge.

'I stare at you that intensely because all of what you said was just true. I want you. I love you, and that's why I need you. I want to make you mine. I hate the Weaslette and your friends because you chose them over me in our first year, and I want you to love me, acknowledge me as yours, _be mine_.' He finished it with a big sigh and pulled Harry to him.

Their lips met in a chaste kiss. Draco pulled away, and then, deciding he wanted more, kissed Harry again.

Harry was in shock. Then, silently thanking Merlin, he grabbed Draco by the collar and pulled him up to a standing position. He'd think about Ginny later. Guilt still took up a part of his heart, but he ignored it in favour of realizing his love was mutual.

He kissed back with just as much vigour, lips moving against Draco's and tongues entwining. He moaned softly when Draco moved to give butterfly kisses down his jaw and neck. He sucked at a particular spot just above Harry's left collarbone, biting, licking, sucking until it was red. 'Mine,' he whispered before he returned to Harry's lips.

/ \\\ / \\\ / \\\

McGonagall towered over them like an impending thunderstorm. Nostrils flaring, eyes popping, she asked in a low, menacing voice, 'Why haven't you bothered to mark even _one_ paper?'

Draco was holding onto Harry's shoulder, clothes messy, hair mussed, a tinge of red on his cheeks and lips. Harry was in the same condition; tie askew, shirt untucked, crumpled. Harry's arm was around his waist, and Draco rather liked it.

'Um...'

'Eh, that's...'

'Professor!' Harry said.

McGonagall looked past them to the room. It was in complete disarray. The two chairs they'd been sitting in were on the floor, not in the position they'd been made for. There was stains on the floor, something McGonagall suspected was ...

Not to mention the essays were lying about, anywhere but on the table. The quills were nowhere to be seen.

'We were fighting!' Draco came up with an explanation. Harry wholeheartedly agreed with him. 'A really big fight, we were about to break things when you came.'

McGonagall didn't think they'd be clinging to each other after a _fight_, of all things.

'Fifty points from Gryffindor and Slytherin for such careless behaviour.'

'Can we go now?' They were in _such_ a hurry, McGonagall noted.

'Yes.'

As they shot past her, she warned loudly, 'Next time, all this ... _love-making_ should be in your dorm rooms, not in my office!'

'Yes, Professor! Sorry, Professor!' She heard them shout before the they disappeared round a corner.

She smiled before re-entering her office and using her wand to clean up everything.

After all, she thought, she had only given them detention to work out their little love problems. She'd had enough of them skirting each other like shy little teenagers. She hadn't really expected them to actually do the work.

She closed the door behind her, and picked up a brand new quill.


End file.
